


Fixer-Upper

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic 2020 [71]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, First Meetings, Home construction, Inheritance, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: LJ Comment Fic for Hallmark Channel prompt:MCU, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, workaholic Phil inherits a house/small business in a remote small town and falls for Clint, the local handyman helping him fix it up
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: Bite Sized Fic 2020 [71]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610332
Comments: 20
Kudos: 77
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	Fixer-Upper

Phil looked at the house in dismay, forgetting about the mud that had ruined his favorite pair of Italian leather shoes.

He’d imagined a quaint country cottage, or maybe a modest estate, when he received the news that he’d inherited a house from a relative he didn’t quite recall. Instead he was looking at a broken-down shell of a house: holes in the roof, collapsed front porch, broken windows, the whole yard overgrown to an incredible degree.

“Maybe it would be cheaper to bulldoze it and sell the land,” he said despondently. 

“Nah. It’s a great little place.”

Phil turned an incredulous look on Clint, the man who’d come to take a look at the property with him. Clint was a local handyman, recommended by the real estate office (and now Phil understood why the very pretty agent hadn’t wanted to come out with him to see the place).

“You must be joking.”

“It’s got good bones,” Clint said. 

He had his hands in the pockets of his worn, stained jeans, and the purplish-blue flannel shirt he had on over a black t-shirt was rolled up to his elbows. Unlike Phil he’d worn proper footwear – knee-high barn boots. Clint had good bones, too, and Phil hastily returned his gaze to the derelict heap he now owned.

“You really think it’s worth saving?”

“Aren’t we all?”

Phil ended up agreeing. He rented out a room in town – there was no hotel, he was staying at a boarding house, which was oddly quaint – so he could lend a hand reviving his house with the goal of selling it and getting back to the city. How hard could it be to hammer in a few nails?

Incredibly hard, as it turned out.

First, they had to remove everything that was rotten, rusted, or just plain broken. Clint had a pile of wood to be saved for other projects, and a pile that would be used for firewood. He tried to save the unique pieces inside the house – moldings, original hardware, some of the light fixtures – and he excitedly shared every find with Phil, who grew to become excited about them in return.

They found an old letter inside the kitchen wall, a love letter from a man to a woman, both of them probably long-ago deceased, and when Clint asked for it, Phil let him have it.

The work was difficult. Even with the heavy gloves Clint supplied him with, Phil suffered from blisters and splinters and bruises and the odd scrape. The satisfaction of it was a surprise. Phil was an office guy, upper management, not accustomed to a lot of physical labor (unless it was car restoration, which he enjoyed quite a lot). Seeing how the house transformed was nothing short of astonishing.

Phil felt like he’d undergone a transformation as well. He got used to not wearing suits, got used to working outdoors and swinging a hammer. He got used to sore muscles and dirty jeans and Clint’s one-eyed dog who mostly lounged in the sun watching them work.

Phil got used to seeing Clint every day, and often eating dinner together after a long day of hard labor. He found himself laughing more, loosening up in a way he almost never did back home. Phil got used to wondering what it would be like to tell Clint he thought about kissing him sometimes.

Clint’s vision for the house was unshakeable. From outside, the house looked brand new. The porch was level, the windows gleamed with new, energy efficient glass, and the roof was blue metal. But inside…inside was a marvel.

“I told you the reclaimed wood wall would look good.”

“It’s amazing,” Phil admitted.

One living room wall was covered in reclaimed boards from Clint’s saved pile, all of them sanded down and stained different natural shades. It was a real conversation piece. And hanging in the front hall was that old love letter, beautifully framed, because Clint was sentimental guy. Calling him a handyman was really selling him short. He was a contractor, a designer, a visionary. 

Clint handed Phil the key to the front door.

“You can sell it now. Be a lucky family that gets to move into this place.”

Maybe Phil was hearing a little longing in Clint’s voice because he was projecting. But maybe it was really there. When he took the key, he took hold of Clint’s hand. 

“I was thinking maybe I’d keep it.”

A slow grin spread across Clint’s face. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Lucky started barking as they shared their first kiss, but to Phil it might’ve been an angelic choir.

Clint was a man with many skills.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** There was no way I was passing this prompt by, even though I’m pretty sure I’ve never written this pairing before. I do not apologize for Lucky, who I know was a comics canine and not an MCU canine, because I love me some Lucky.


End file.
